


A Hand Around My Heart

by Writerly



Series: One Day At a Time [2]
Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Josh Survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Psychosis, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 10:52:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writerly/pseuds/Writerly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me how to fix this,” Josh says, pushing the words past the brick in his throat. “Anything – I'll do anything, just tell me what.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>After the events on the mountain, Josh gets some much needed therapy while he tries to become a person his friends can trust again. Although it's mostly Chris he wants to win over.</p>
<p>It's not a smooth ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hand Around My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: mentions of depression, psychosis, and medications. Language. Mildly disturbing imagery.
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm not a psychiatrist or psychologist. I've never personally experienced a psychotic episode, but close relatives have and I've helped take care of them. Don't take drugs that aren't specifically prescribed to you by someone qualified, and if you are struggling with depression or psychosis, please find help.
> 
> This is a sequel to [On the Road to Recovery](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4870276) although it can be read on its own. 
> 
> Many thanks to the amazing [burbear](http://archiveofourown.org/users/burbear) and [Mynx](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynx) for beta reading and encouraging me. Much <3 you guys!

 

“Keys?”  
  
Standing outside at 6 am is _so_ not on the list of _things Josh Washington would like to do any day, anytime, sign me the fuck up_. He's there anyway, arms wrapped around his middle, shifting his weight from one sock-clad foot to another. The concrete is damp and cold but he didn't feel like putting on shoes for five minutes. He should've. Saying goodbye to his mother is never just five minutes.  
  
He unwraps one hand from his middle to jingle the keys held in his fist. Melinda lets out a small breath as she eyes them, as if the front door isn't standing open as it is and she's afraid Josh doesn't know where to find their spare keys.  
  
“You gotta go, mom,” he says. He doesn't really want to get rid of her. He'd prefer she stayed, actually, but this is the second time she's asked him and the fourth time she's looking through her bag. It's cold. Josh wants coffee he can't have until she's on the road.  
  
Melinda pulls her phone out and swipes across the screen. “This is on,” she says. “If anything happens--”  
  
“I'll call you,” Josh assures her. He probably wouldn't even if something did, but his mother is nothing if not persistent. It got worse after the mountain and Hannah and Beth, with her calling his phone every time before she left, just to see that she'd be able to get through. She didn't seem to care that phone connectivity didn't exactly work like that. Josh had gotten so annoyed with her about it that they'd had a fight about it over dinner, ending with Josh going back to his apartment.  
  
She didn't do that anymore, but things were different now and Josh wasn't sure if he could ever get mad at her again for caring, after all that happened. Better to have someone care than not give a shit, right?  
  
“Mom,” Josh says, taking a step forward to gently put a hand over hers, making her stop rummaging around in the bag. She hasn't forgotten anything and they both knew it. “I'll be fine.”  
  
She looks at him with a weak smile before reaching up to cup his face, standing on the tip of her toes to press a kiss against his hairline. “My sweet, sweet boy,” she says in a hoarse voice and strokes his cheek with her thumb. _Please don't cry. Please, please_.  
  
She doesn't. Josh has hardly ever seen his mother cry. He can only remember two occasions, both within the last eighteen months – but when it happens he feels like the ground is crumbling under his feet.  
  
Melinda takes her car keys in hand, closing her bag, and clears her throat. “Your meds are on the kitchen counter and Chris'll pick you up for your appointments.”  
  
Chris asked Josh if he'd be okay with him driving him around before ever agreeing to it. Josh just nods before he's swooped down for a one-armed hug, his mother's hand coming up to rest in his neck, pulling his face to her shoulder. It takes him a second to react, but then he holds her close, too, breathing in the smell of her hair and perfume.  
  
Moments like these make him feel like a kid again.  
  
“I love you,” she says, and Josh turns his head just so to kiss her temple in response. Then she steps back and leaves. Josh keeps standing out on the driveway until he can no longer see her car before going back inside.  
  
Lock door. Coffee. Couch. Blanket.  
  
His feet are still freezing by the time he's situated himself in the living room. He toes off his socks, seeing as they're definitely not helping. It's only after staring at the black TV screen for five minutes that Josh realizes he'd planned on asking his mom something, but completely forgotten all about it. He pulls his phone out his hoodie's pocket, typing out a quick _“tell dad i said hi”._ He makes up his mind three times before sending.  
  
He hasn't spoken his father in ages. Not that hard, considering his father favors the lake house. They were close, once, but that changed after the first incident, and with everything that happened on the mountain, well. That didn't exactly do anything to fix their relationship. Josh wasn't sure whether his father was mad at him or just didn't know how to deal with him being the only one left. The problem child.

 

* * *

 

Josh wakes with a start when he hears the front door slam shut before he hears Chris call out. “In here,” he calls back. Shit, when did he fall asleep? He rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. There's a mug on the coffee table, filled with murky, cold liquid. He grimaces. Right, should've done that first.  
  
Chris is making cooing noises in the hallway as he kicks off his shoes. “Look who I found,” he says when he enters the room with a massive ball of brown fur in his arms. When he gets to the couch he gently drops the pile of fluff near Josh's blanket covered feet. “Did you guys stop feeding her because dude, she looks extra grumpy.”  
  
“She's on a diet, bro.” Josh extends his hand to the cat, who raises her tail and proceeds to rub her cheeks against his knuckles. “Hey, Sadie,” he murmurs, scratching behind her ear, then looks at Chris. “Time's it?”  
  
“Like, ten-thirty. I sent you a text half an hour ago.” Chris pulls out his phone to check, nodding to himself when everything checks out. “Were you sleeping, bro?”  
  
“Guess so,” Josh says, stifling a yawn behind his hand.  
  
“Don't snooze off again, alright?” Chris says before walking to the kitchen. Sadie jumps off the couch to follow him. Traitor. “ETD eleven thirty, give or take.”  
  
“Yessir,” Josh says.  
  
He picks a fresh pair of jeans and a lumberjack shirt to wear. Tries to put on a watch but he keeps fumbling with the clasp and for some reason the weight feels off on his wrist, so he leaves it. He catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror when he forgets to look down while he's brushing his teeth.  
  
His hair's a mess, so he runs a hand through it. He should shower. Shave, too, because there's a good amount of stubble on his face. He can't look at his eyes for too long because they seem bigger than usual, including the bags under them. He quickly rinses his mouth and leaves in time to hear his phone alarm go off downstairs.  
  
Chris hands him his phone when he gets there. He can feel Chris's eyes burn questions into his hands as he turns it off. Josh only gives him a quick thanks before entering the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of water.  
  
His pill organizer's on the counter and he needs a moment to convince himself to open the damn thing. He runs through the action a couple of times in his head before he can put his hands to work, and then he's looking at the round pills in the palm of his hand. He hates them. He takes them anyway, downing the rest of the water after.  
  
When he puts the glass down he sees Chris standing in the doorway. “Don't stare at me, bro,” he says, feeling his cheeks heat up fast. Chris looks away mumbling an apology, and Josh brushes it off with an _“it's fine”_ before finding his shoes. “We should get going, right,” he says, moving to grab his coat before Chris can protest.

 

* * *

 

 

“I can take the bus,” Josh says, resting the side of his face against the glass of the passenger door.  
  
Chris shakes his head. “Nah, it's fine.”  
  
He'd be fine taking the bus, too. He could probably even drive himself, the drowsiness caused by his pills not affecting him half as much as it did when he just started taking them. Or maybe he just got used to the feeling. Anyway, his mother and Dr. Parks both think it's a bad idea if he takes the wheel himself, so he won't. Public transport shouldn't be a problem though, mundane as it is.  
  
Sounds like Chris is siding with them. Josh looks at his friend from the corner of his eyes. How much do they talk about him behind his back? Do they send each other updates on the amount of crazy they've got to put up with?  
  
He's not supposed to call himself crazy because it's counterproductive and blahdiblah, but if he ever met someone who thought it was a grand idea to stage the biggest prank video in the history of on the anniversary of their sisters' disappearance, he'd call them a fucking crazy person. Sure he was delusional when he planned it all out, but that doesn't mean he didn't do it. It'd been his decision to stop taking his meds all at once. A really fucking dumb decision, but he'd made it anyway.  
  
“I like driving around,” Chris says, sounding sincere, “and now I get to do it _and_ spend time with you. Win-win situation.”  
  
“You'll get bored in the parking lot,” Josh says, but it seems like Chris has thought of everything as he points out his reading assignments in his bag.  
  
“I might actually get through them before the night of the deadline,” Chris says. “In a way, you're helping me, bro.”  
  
Bullshit.  
  
“Alright,” Josh says. “Remember to credit me when you finish writing your thesis two months early.”  
  
There's some lighthearted banter back and forth before Josh starts to recognize the landscape and falls silent. The stone sign at the driveway entrance proudly declaring _De Botton Institute of Mental Health_ isn't helping, either.  
  
They're early so Josh waits in the car with Chris until it's time. He can't stand waiting rooms. Too many eyes. Every person who shuffles by knows why you're sitting in that chair. It's because there's something _wrong with you_.  
  
Josh hates it because it's true. There's been something wrong with him for as long as he can remember being different, _feeling_ different. He spent so much time trying to hide it he feels exposed when others can tell. He's still not sure how he feels about Chris knowing. Technically speaking, everyone in his life knows about it now, but since he hasn't seen any of the others he can ignore it for as long as possible.  
  
Chris is right here, however, has seen him at his lowest – has _memories_ of Josh saying and doing stuff Josh can't remember because he was so out of it – and he's refusing to leave. He's watching every piece of Josh's mask fall away and it's like he doesn't care about the mess.  
  
Josh feels grateful and violated at the same time.  
  
He still has to wait five minutes once he's inside the building. It's a rare thing when an appointment starts at the exact given time. He stands near the table with magazines, picking up a folder to scan over. He doesn't remember what it's about the moment he puts it back down, just that the pictures used are some of the most generic stock photos that come to mind when thinking about mental health pamphlets.  
  
Dr. Parks walks by twice before acknowledging him. “Can I get you anything before we start, Joshua?” she asks. “Water, tea?”  
  
“Just water, please,” Josh says.  
  
When she comes back he follows her to her office. The first few sessions had been mostly about getting his symptoms down with the right kind of medication, but it hadn't been long after that Dr. Parks had offered to add regular psychotherapy to the mix. They could gradually work on lowering the dosages of his medications once he'd stabilized.  
  
He'd also seen the lightning fast flash of annoyance in her eyes before it disappeared behind a mask of professionalism when he mentioned Dr. Hill's therapy. Then she'd said they wouldn't be repeating previous sessions, they'd be building towards a common goal: improving Josh's quality of life.  
  
Dr. Parks mentioned something about not every therapist using the same methods as, per example, Dr. Hill.  
  
Oh yeah, she definitely had beef with the guy. Not that Josh would probably ever find out about what exactly, but he'd agreed to her therapy anyway.  
  
Dr. Parks places the tray with cups on her desk as Josh shucks off his coat. There's a false sense of casualness to these meetings, maintained by Dr. Parks's demeanor as she sits across from him, preparing her tea. She's always wearing some sort of knitted sweater, like he's visiting her at her house. He wonders if it's all a carefully thought out part of her therapy style.  
  
“Now, Joshua,” she says when he's seated. “How've you been?”

 

* * *

 

The ride back home is for the most part a silent affair. Josh fingers the paper tissue given to him by Dr. Parks. His nose is still leaking, so he wipes at it again.  
  
Chris has been great on his part, not asking questions when Josh got back. He'd only asked what Josh had planned for dinner. Nothing's the answer, so Chris makes a pitstop at a supermarket.  
  
“Pick a pasta, any pasta,” Chris declares when they've found the right aisle. Without waiting for Josh he starts scanning the different packages, picks two and shoves them right under Josh's nose.  
  
“You say pick any and show up with regular spaghetti?” Josh asks, raising an eyebrow. “You gotta work on your sense of adventure, dude.”

Chris makes a scandalized expression. “It's _whole wheat_ , not regular, you peasant.” He returns the spaghetti to their respective places.  
  
“Get the green flat ones.”  
  
Chris lets out a wicked laugh as he grabs a box of tagliatelle. “I aim to please, m'lady,” he says _sotto voce_ , making Josh snort. “And what say we get some spinach and mascarpone?”  
  
He can't say no. Chris's cooking is hit or miss at times, but his pasta dishes are always spot on. Once they've collected all the ingredients needed, Chris moves on to grab a bag of skittles. Then a bag of potato chips.  
  
“ _Dude_ ,” Josh says, pulling on Chris's sleeve to steer him away from the popcorn he's flirting with. “You gotta step back or I'm gonna make you eat a salad.”  
  
“I effing _love_ salad.”  
  
“C'mon dude, we gotta go. Shopping on an empty stomach is like making out with people when you're drunk.”  
  
Chris leaves the popcorn in favor of tilting his head at Josh, his face a blank. “Really, bro. That's the best you can come up with?”  
  
“ _Bro_.”  
  
Instead of popcorn they wind up with cookie dough ice cream because not even Josh is strong enough to resist it.  
  
“You should've let me pay for it, man,” Josh says once they're back at the car. Chris waves him off as he unlocks the car, but that doesn't make him feel any better. He feels like he should be doing something for Chris.

“Let me wine and dine you for once,” Chris replies when he says so. “You always pay for stuff.”  
  
“Yeah, because I'm good for it. Besides, you didn't get any booze. There's no way you can woo me without it.”  
  
Chris meets his eyes in the rear view mirror. “Are you doubting my skills?”  
  
Josh can't help but laugh. “Dude, I've _seen_ you in action. You have great skills. Remember that one time you romanced the pants off that pigeon? Real smooth.” He's still snickering as Chris protests that he has actually flirted with actual people. Josh doesn't think before he opens his mouth when he asks, “Have you asked Ash out yet?”  
  
The resulting silence is instantaneous. Of all the things he could have said, it _had_ to be fucking this. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Even if Chris is acting like nothing's wrong, they both know it's a front.  
  
Josh feels sicker with every second that passes. “I'm so sorry--” he tries to say, but Chris cuts him off.  
  
“No, no, it's fine,” Chris says. “You want to know, so– I mean, you're allowed to ask, it's not like that's– Right. So.” Chris clears his throat, and Josh wishes that he would stop driving but he can't think of anything to say without escalating the situation. “Ash and I are just … taking it one day at a time. She needs time and I need time and – did you know I'm seeing a psychologist?”  
  
He didn't, so he shakes his head.  
  
“After what happened, the police thought that I'd – that it'd help if I saw someone, so I am, twice a month,” Chris continues. “Sometimes I get to talk about nightmares or-- or other stuff, like how I feel about Ashley and how I don't know what I want anymore, but can you guess what I talk about most days?”  
  
Josh shakes his head again because he can guess. He knows what Chris is going to say and it makes the guilt inside his chest grow heavier and heavier.  
  
“I talk about you,” Chris says softly. It feels like a blow to the stomach, and Chris isn't done yet, he's just letting his words _sink in_ , and boy, do they ever. “I talk about how I feel like I can never trust you again. Or, how stupid I feel for not noticing something until it was too late.”  
  
Josh has to look away. He stares out the window, not really seeing anything but blur-shaped trees. “Tell me how to fix this,” he says, pushing the words past the brick in his throat. “Anything – I'll do anything, just tell me what.”  
  
There's a pause, then a sigh from Chris. “I don't know, Josh. This isn't something you can fix, I think.”  
  
Chris eases the car up the driveway and parks it in front of the garage. Josh can't bring himself to move, as if the privacy they have inside the car is a tangible thing pressing him back against the seat. He can hear Chris pull the keys from the ignition, but nothing other than that.  
  
“I'm not a good person,” Chris says.  
  
Josh furrows his brow, turns his head to look at him.  
  
“The choices I made that night – the person I was back there – it scares me.” Chris adjusts his glasses. He can't seem to look Josh in the eye anymore than Josh him. “I always thought I'd know what to do during a crisis, what numbers to call, how to stay calm, but I didn't. I would've let people die right in front of me – I would've – I picked you, Josh.”  
  
It's about what happened in the shed, Josh realizes. “That wasn't real,” he protests. “It was a prank.”  
  
Chris shakes his head furiously. “No, no, you're not listening. If it'd been real, Ashley would be dead because I picked you. I've known Ash for years, you _know_ how much I-- but I'd still let her die. Right now, I'd _still_ pick you.”  
  
Fucked up as it is, Josh can't help the warmth spreading in his chest at Chris's admission. He takes in Chris's wide-eyed look, as though his friend can't believe what he's saying, and _fuck_. There's an impulse bubbling inside him to take hold of Chris's face and just do something about it. _Just kiss him_.  
  
Fuck.  
  
No.  
  
He touches Chris's arm, to offer some form comfort instead. “You're not a bad person,” he says, and Chris gives him a small smile that's more sad than anything else.  
  
“But I'm not good, either.”  
  
_You and me both, partner_.  
  
Josh swallows thickly and nods his head towards the house. “Maybe we should--”  
  
“Yeah. Yeah,” Chris says, unbuckling his seat belt.

 

* * *

 

Chris sets to work in the kitchen immediately, because what the heck, they're both hungry and adults, they can have dinner whenever they like. Or late lunch. Whichever it is, Josh confirmed they also have a bunch of pizzas in the freezer for later, which settled it. He quietly excuses himself to feed Sadie.  
  
The cat dances around his feet as he brings the kibble to her bowl. After dumping the food in her bowl he stays squatted besides her, absentmindedly running a hand through her fur. The conversation from earlier is stuck on repeat in his mind. Apparently being saved by someone (or more accurately, thought worth saving) _does_ change the way you view them, even when in all likelihood that person should hate you. But Chris doesn't hate him.  
  
He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen. Chris and Ashley should've fallen right into each other's arms, that was the plan. It's still the plan – right? Wait, he doesn't have plans anymore. Fuck, get it right, Joshua.  
  
He's thought about kissing Chris before. Hell, he's thought about kissing all their collective friends, and yeah, he'd linger on the thought of Chris's lips pressing against his a little longer than, say, Sam or Mike. It made sense when he was laying in his bed late at night, staring up at the ceiling. Out of all of them he's known Chris the longest. Doesn't everyone think about kissing their best friend out of curiosity?  
  
He shouldn't be thinking about this at all. Is this how he's gonna repay Chris's patience and good will – by crushing on him like a twelve year old?  
  
He tries to shake the thoughts when Chris calls him from the kitchen.  
  
They decide to watch _White House Down_ while they're eating, because who doesn't want to see Channing Tatum and Jamie Foxx team up as a police officer and the President. The other reason is Josh being unsure whether or not he should be watching horror movies any time soon. He's sure his therapist would advise against it if he told her where exactly he got most of his inspiration for his pranks.  
  
He isn't paying much attention to the movie, but neither is Chris, whose phone buzzes every few minutes. They're halfway through when Chris's tapped responses sound especially harsh and he puts his phone down on the coffee table, ignoring the following incoming messages. When Chris goes for a pee break, Josh is struck by the desire to take a quick peek. He doesn't.  
  
When Chris returns he comes to a halt behind the couch and the back of Josh's neck starts prickling. Is Chris going to suggest he leaves? He should. He's more than fulfilled his responsibility as a friend. Josh tries to think of something to say to give Chris an easy out. Maybe, _thinking of going somewhere, cowboy?_ or _don't you have studying to do?  
  
_ His mouth doesn't work. When he looks at Chris he can see him thinking as well. The silence between them is punctuated by the gunshots coming from the TV. One of them is going to have to say something before the situation becomes an entirely new level of awkward.  
  
Turns out neither of them has to when Chris's phone starts ringing. Josh watches Ashley's name light up on the screen before he take the mobile and hands it over to Chris.  
  
Chris mutters a curse under his breath. He gives Josh an apologetic look. “I gotta--” he says, and Josh makes a dismissive gesture. He answers the call. “Hang on,” he says, walking out the living room again. Josh hears the back door slam a moment later.  
  
It's not like Josh wants to be jealous – who even _wants_ to be jealous, anyway – but he can't stop himself from wondering what they're talking about and a part of him wants to sneak off and listen to their conversation. Maybe they're talking about him. _No, shut up_. It's none of his business.  
  
This time Chris does sit down when he comes back, turning the phone over and over in his hands. “Can I sleep here tonight?” he asks.  
  
Josh is already nodding before the question is finished. He tries not to sound too eager when he says, “Anytime, bro.”

 

* * *

 

He's in Hannah's bedroom when it happens. The small bird on display on her pillow has its neck twisted at an unnatural angle. He reaches out to touch it, but the floor starts to crack and the next thing he knows he's in a dark cave, rocks scraping his hands and knees. There's a hot pink jacket next to him and he grabs it, pulls it to him. It's Beth's, but it's not the right shape.  
  
He's been here before, but it's not real. Is it? It can't be. He tries to pinch himself but can't get a good grip. He looks down at his hands. Too many fingers. Is he hallucinating? He tries to grab his fingers but goes straight through them. He can't feel them at all. It's a dream. _It's a dream_.  
  
His head starts spinning when he tries to get to his feet and he has to hold himself up against a wall. He's simultaneously aware of the cave and the solid weight of his mattress under him. He must've turned over in his sleep.  
  
Beams of light shine down on the black rocks, blinding Josh until he reaches the rock wall. His shoes keep slipping every time he tries to climb up. He has to move further into the cave.  
  
Hannah is crying, long haunting wails that echo in the dark, driving Josh forward. He has to find her. She's not real but it doesn't matter, he can't stand to hear his baby sister like this any longer. If he can just reach her, hold her...  
  
He gasps when his legs are suddenly doused in ice cold water, and then he's pulled under the surface. Claws on his shoulders keep him there. When he opens his eyes it's Hannah staring back at him, her face a shadow of what it once was. She sees him. Josh wants to scream because it's _not fair!_ She's _right there_ , he should have kept her safe, he should have protected her.  
  
He can't breathe. Hannah won't let him up. It's okay, though. Josh holds on to Hannah's arms, his thumbs brushing over the taut skin there. Her eyes are skittish, darting left and right like a scared animal, and she opens her jaws to howl.  
  
_It's okay_ , Josh mouths at her, water rushing in, filling his lungs in a way that is both painless and suffocating. _I love you. I love you.  
  
_ Hannah keeps howling and screeching, tries to pull away but Josh won't let her. He's finally found her and he can't-- he can't let her go. _I WAS SO ALONE_ , she shrieks with her inhuman voice. _YOU LEFT ME_.  
  
_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm here now._ _I won't leave. I promise. I promise.  
  
_ He holds her in an unwanted embrace and she struggles until she doesn't, and then her form is shrinking, her long hair growing back and it's his Hannah in his arms, sobbing. _Josh_ , she whimpers. _Josh, I'm scared.  
  
_ His eyes sting. He kisses her crown, presses his nose to her hair. _I'm here--  
  
_ Before he can react to it, Hannah is yanked from his arms, dragged into the darkness and he can no longer see her. _No. No, no, no._ He grasps around him. This can't be happening. She was right here, he'd found her and was going to stay with her. Please bring her back. She has to come back.  
  
Josh can't move with the water pressing down on him, sinking his legs into the mud. He tries to pull his legs free. He can't breathe. He's crying, his tears mixing with the water and it's getting darker and darker. His lungs are screaming in his chest, begging him to _breathe_ \--

 

* * *

 

Josh pushing the pillow away from his face, gasping, gulping for air. His face is wet and the sheets are sticking to him, but much worse is the tight feeling in his chest. He's awake and he's drowning.  
  
Oh god. _Hannah.  
  
_ He feels the corners of his mouth pull, his eyes tighten, his jaw tense and he rolls his face back into his pillow, muffling the scream that rips from his throat. He pushes it out as hard as he can, keeps pushing even when he has nothing left and it _hurts_. The inhale that follows forces itself in, filling the vacuum with such speed Josh chokes on it. He coughs wetly, throat burning.  
  
Then he sobs silently until his head is heavy and his ears stop rushing.  
  
He hasn't had a nightmare like this in a while. He feels almost guilty for not dreaming about Beth nearly as much as he does about Hannah. He used to see them together, but ever since he went down into the mines he sees Hannah, alone.  
  
His eyes widen as the realization hits him. He saw Hannah's face. Reaching blindly he opens his bedside table's drawer, fingers clutching the notebook inside. As if in a frenzy he skips to the empty pages and starts scribbling the shapes of her face he saw when he looked at her. He isn't a very skilled artist, his lines too harsh and his proportions edging the uncanny valley, but his goal isn't to draw a lifelike comparison. It's to remember.  
  
He thumbs through the previous pages, Hannah's predator eyes and teeth staring back at him from the paper. Maybe this isn't remembering at all. Maybe this is using Lego bricks to build a pattern that repeats itself into infinity, like an Escher.  
  
He drops the notebook on the floor and stumbles to his parents' bedroom. Leaving the lights off, he rifles through the top drawer of his mother's dresser until he finds her pack of emergency cigarettes. He takes one, grabs a lighter from the kitchen and heads out onto the patio.  
  
It's a chilly night with a clear sky, the stars shining softly above. Sadie joins him as he sits on the stone steps. She pushes her whole body against his side, almost like she knows.  
  
“Hey you,” Josh croaks out, feeling the drying snot on his upper lip pull on his skin as he speaks. He cleans it off with his shirt's sleeve. He's gonna have to change into a fresh one anyway, with all the sweat seeped into this one.  
  
He lights the cigarette, pulls the smoke into his mouth and then deeper, into his lungs. His eyelids flutter shut as he feels the buzz kick in. Fuck, he needed this.  
  
The cigarette is half gone when the patio door is thrown open and Josh jumps, dropping the damn thing on the steps.  
  
“Josh?” Chris walks up to him. “Hey buddy, you okay?”  
  
He picks up the cigarette and sticks it back between his teeth. “Define okay, Cochise,” he mumbles around it. There's a sudden sense of self-consciousness as Chris comes to a stop next to him. He probably looks like shit.  
  
Chris shucks off the vest he's wearing, draping it across Josh's back and shoulders. He sits next to him, thigh against thigh. The warmth radiating from Chris is like a furnace. “I'm sorry,” Chris says.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“What you're going through.”  
  
Josh shrugs, takes another drag from the cigarette. Damn Chris's responsibility complex. He breathes out slowly and shakes his head. “'s nothing you can do,” he says. “Shit happens.”  
  
Chris fidgets. “There's something,” he says. “We could... talk about it. Talk about this.”  
  
Josh almost laughs because really, Chris? Talking about it is the last thing on his list, considering what he does every time he visits Dr. Parks, but then he spots the _this_ Chris is referring to. The worn notebook from his bedside table. “Where did you get it?” Josh asks, a rhetorical question. He knows where it was last. “Did you read it?”  
  
“I was looking for you,” Chris says, having the decency to look ashamed over going through Josh's stuff. “It was open on the floor and I--”  
  
Josh grabs the notebook before he can finish. “This 's private.”  
  
“I _saw_ the pictures, okay?”  
  
“And what're you gonna do about it, huh?” Josh holds it up in the air in front of him. “Are you gonna call Dr. Parks and tell her about all the crazy in here? Crazy Josh and his crazy dreams, thinks his sister got turned into a murder-death machine. Better up his meds again before he snaps.”  
  
“Fuck you, you know me better than that,” Chris says, a hushed anger behind his voice. “What's in there's not crazy, I've seen it too and I know you can't talk about it with Dr. Parks because I sure as heck can't without someone telling me it's just PTSD.”  
  
There's a distinct difference between knowing you saw something and having someone else confirm it. Josh swallows, tries to push the thrill of his nerves to the background. “She looked like this? You saw?”  
  
He can see Chris's anger deflate, his shoulders drop. What's left in his friend's eyes is a bone deep weariness. He nods, looking at Josh and the notebook and back again.  
  
Ash falls off Josh's cigarette and he stubs it on the steps, knowing he's too distracted to finish it. He rests his arms on his knees, ignoring the way his right hand is shaking. He has to know. “Is she alive?”  
  
The seconds he has to wait for Chris's response are some of the longest he's ever lived through. Then Chris bites his lip. The movement he makes when he shakes his head is so small it could've been involuntary. “I'm so, so sorry.”  
  
His whole body feels numb. It's like the first time he heard someone say they weren't going to look for his sisters any longer. That they should prepare for the possibility that they'd never get them back. It had been hard enough the first time, but to hear that Hannah had been alive... that he hadn't imagined it out of grief, that she'd been out there – only for her to die again.  
  
“Okay,” Josh whispers, eyes gone wide. He stares at the dark green grass in front of them, not really seeing anything anymore. “Okay, okay.”  
  
He isn't aware he's weeping until Chris has his arm wrapped around him. Chris is rubbing his shoulder, murmuring soft words, and then he's helped to his feet. He stumbles on his way to the door but Chris is right there, doesn't let him go until he's sitting on the edge of the guest room's bed.  
  
Chris comes back with a damp washcloth and starts cleaning his face with soft, short strokes following the lines of his face. Josh closes his eyes and lets him. He leans into the touch, lets Chris maneuver him to his wishes. He can't think anymore, a dull fog surrounding his thoughts.  
  
“She recognized me,” he tells Chris once they've moved under the covers. The bed is big enough for the both of them, but they stick close together, sides touching. They used to sleep like this in Josh's bed too, sometimes.  
  
“She wasn't... human, Josh.”  
  
“But she knew me.”  
  
There's a sigh next to him. Chris's hand closes around his, folding his fingers inward. “C'mon Josh,” Chris whispers. “C'mon, go to sleep. Close those eyes.”  
  
The beating of his heart slows, a soft thumping under his ribs lulling him into the darkness. Chris's hand is a comforting presence, reminding him he's not alone. His last conscious thoughts are with his sister down in the mines. He slips into a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

He wakes up in a mostly empty bed. Sadie trills from his feet and gets up when he moves onto his side. She comes over to sniff his face, trilling again when he pets her. Chris's side of the bed is already made up and he wonders if he left without telling him, but the clatter of pots and pans coming from downstairs is the only answer he needs.  
  
Sadie licks at his nose and forehead. Josh blinks and his eyelids feel twice their original size, swollen to the point where he can't fully open them. He rubs at them in the hopes of making it feel better. God, he's gotta stop crying so much, waking up like this is not worth it.  
  
At least his head is clearer. He goes back to his own room for some clean clothes before moving down to the kitchen.  
  
Chris smiles at him, waving the spatula. “Egg in a basket,” he says, lifting a slice of bread from the pan and moving it onto a ready plate. The bread is a beautiful golden brown and going off the way the egg jiggles just the slightest bit, Josh knows the yolk inside will be perfect.  
  
“If your plan is to guilt trip me into cooking for you, I gotta say, it's definitely working,” Josh says when Chris puts the plate down in front of him at the breakfast bar.  
  
“I'd never,” Chris says, putting on a bad British accent. He takes the second plate and sits next to him, pulling out his phone to check it while they eat.  
  
Josh hums to himself, grabbing his own phone to do the same. He has a bunch of notifications on Facebook he can ignore and a few messages he can't.  
  
They eat in a comfortable silence, and when Josh is done replying he looks over the top of his phone. Chris is so captivated by his apps and whatsits he doesn't notice Josh's staring. _Why the fuck is he here with me, after everything?  
  
_ Especially after last night, it feels like he doesn't deserve this – doesn't deserve _Chris_. At all. But more than that, Josh is aware that what he's feeling isn't just a crush. Because it's not, and there's nothing he can do about it. Not that he would actually _want_ to stop the feelings that have been growing for months. Maybe even years.  
  
He isn't aware he's completely spaced out until he notices Chris trying to lock eyes with him, giving him a small smile when it finally happens. Chris raises his eyebrows in a question and Josh gives a slight shrug. Then Chris holds out his hand to Josh, palm up.  
  
“Gay,” Josh says, taking hold of it. He doesn't say it like an accusation – because it's not like he's straight – but he doesn't quite manage to say it like a joke, either. It's a touch too honest for Chris to just ignore it.  
  
Chris nods, thumb brushing across Josh's knuckles. He's put down his phone in the process and is already done eating, so all his attention is on Josh, whose mouth is turning dry. They look at each other until Chris squeezes his hand and gets up to put his plate away.  
  
He gestures at Josh's plate. There's one third of his meal left. “Are you done with that?”  
  
He hadn't been that hungry when he sat down at the breakfast bar in the first place. “I'll finish it later,” Josh says, but before Chris can take the necessary steps towards the dishwasher Josh takes hold of his sleeve. “I'm...” He doesn't know what to say next, but then he spots Chris's eyes dropping down to his lips for a split second and …  
  
_Oh.  
  
_ “Chris,” he says and _very_ _deliberately_ returns the the favor. For a second there's the sinking feeling that he might have interpreted it wrong, that Chris doesn't feel the same way–  
  
But Chris swallows and then nods, slowly.  
  
_Oh.  
  
_ “We shouldn't,” Josh says, because for once he should be the one to put the breaks down. “This is a really bad idea and you shouldn't even be here.”  
  
Chris nods, again, putting his plate back down so he now has both his hands free, and he says, “I'm not going anywhere.” He hesitates. “Unless you want me to–”  
  
“No,” Josh blurts out. He wants Chris to stay more than anything.  
  
“Then I'll stay,” Chris says. He pauses, fidgets with the hem of one of his shirts. “I feel like this is a confession of some kind.”  
  
“Dude.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Chris says, rolling his eyes, and he fucking looks at Josh's lips _again_. Then he snorts, as if he's realizing how ridiculous the whole situation is. “Wanna kiss on it?”  
  
And... fuck. Maybe it's because of the night he's had, but Josh can't think of anything remotely funny to answer to that, because yes, he does. So he replies in the only way he still can, which is nod and pull Chris closer.  
  
Their lips meet somewhere in the middle of their embrace and Chris runs a hand through Josh's hair, his other hand reaching up to cup his jaw and it's... goddamn magical. It's slow and tender, and Josh's eyes flutter shut as their lips move against each other. In almost all his fantasies their kisses have been loaded with sexual tension and this kiss isn't like that at all. It's like going inside after a walk through the rain and then holding a steaming mug of tea in your hands. Josh feels like he's melting _,_ like all the _everything_ that's been happening is falling away and it's just him and Chris.  
  
When Chris breaks the kiss, he presses his lips to Josh's cheek before wrapping his arms around him. Maybe it should be a little awkward because Josh is still sitting and Chris is standing and Josh's head is resting against Chris's chest – but it's not. It's perfect in the way coming home from a long trip and laying down on your own bed is perfect. So for now, Josh just holds on to Chris and listens to his beating heart and... holy shit. They actually did that.  
  
For a long time he had thought that kissing Chris would feel _bigger_ , in the way turning eighteen had seemed like a bigger deal than it actually was before it had happened. But it just feels normal. Easy, like this is something they should have done a long time ago.  
  
“Wanna do that again sometime?” Josh asks.  
  
“Only if I don't have to bend down like that,” Chris says, at which Josh chuckles. Then, after a beat, he says, “I'll always pick you, even when I'm not supposed to,” and yeah, they're probably gonna have to sit down sometime and talk about that, what it all means and what this makes them, and what about Ashley? But for now Josh is selfish enough to be happy that he's the one Chris chose.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Every kudos is a peck on the lips, every comment a kiss in which they lose themselves for a bit.
> 
> <3


End file.
